


Mediocre Jazz in Brooklyn

by penmarks



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America - Freeform, Cute, Cute Stucky, Fluff, Fluff and Mush, M/M, Stucky - Freeform, The Winter Solider - Freeform, TheWinterSoldier, captainamerica - Freeform, m/m - Freeform, steve/bucky - Freeform, stevebucky - Freeform, stucky fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:59:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7474230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penmarks/pseuds/penmarks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot based on this writing prompt:</p><p>a slightly incompetent jazz band, a locket, and a gross of plastic dinosaurs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mediocre Jazz in Brooklyn

"Come  _on_ ,” Bucky groaned as he tried to avert his boyfriend’s attention from the small stage in front of them. “Steve, they’re not even good. C’mon.”

Steve shushed him and swatted Bucky’s hand away from his arm, entranced by the jazz band before him. He missed this music so much, missed being able to go out to experience it live. Getting do it with Bucky made it even more special, even if his partner couldn't always appreciate the mediocre bands Steve dragged him out to see.

“We did not pay fifty bucks apiece to watch some douche with a sax—”

The blond silenced him with a long, loving kiss. There were a few audible scoffs from behind them, but those didn’t bother Steve anymore. It hadn’t bothered him for a while. Having Bucky back made everything else matter very little.

“And to think you’re not even gonna dance with me,” Bucky sighed, his breath hot against Steve’s ear. “What a tease.”

“Shh,” Steve laughed, slowly turning his head back toward the stage as Bucky tangled their fingers together. “You know I like watching the band so much more than just letting them be background music.”

“That’s all jazz is good for,” Bucky whined. He rolled his eyes when Steve didn’t respond and eventually gave into resting his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder. His eyes felt heavy, like he could sleep at any moment.

The way Bucky saw it, jazz was either for sleeping, making out or dancing. Just _sitting_ idly and watching the band was never something he could get behind, but he’d always endured it for Steve. And he had to admit—never aloud, of course—that being able to display their love openly was always worth it.

In their prime, nights like these were dark and hidden away in the basement of Steve’s parents’ house, surrounded by toys they couldn’t bear to give away. Boxes upon boxes of children’s books, toy trains, wooden guns and tiny dinosaurs.

They’d rig a radio antenna with aluminium foil so it could get any kind of signal down there, and once the chopped-up and fuzzy music started, it was like a different dimension for them. Some nights they only sat in the dark, eyes closed and minds busy, daydreaming of better days.

Other nights, after Steve’s mother had finally succumbed to tuberculosis, Bucky would hold the smaller man close while they both wept for his loss. Sometimes they danced, but mostly they laid on an uncomfortable mattress until the sun came up.

Then again, could they really consider that their prime, considering where they’d ended up? Sitting together in a crowded room in Brooklyn, where couples of all walks of life were dancing together off to one side and even more surrounded them in chairs, embracing each other just like they were.

Steve was healthy, which was something Bucky still woke up in the morning surprised by. He didn’t shiver when a draft passed through the room. His lungs didn’t wheeze and fail him when he walked up too many stairs. He didn’t have to be taken to the hospital two days after someone coughed in his direction. Steve was...well, perfect. He always had been, but the serum had taken the inside and brought it outward. While Bucky would always joke about preferring the days when Steve fit under his arm, he wouldn’t trade what they had now for anything.

 

 

* * *

 

“All I’m saying is that you didn’t sleep for seventy years just to wake up to subpar jazz bands,” Bucky laughed. “We can do better than that.”

Steve smiled and squeezed Bucky’s hand, his eyes on the sidewalk and a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re such a shit,” Bucky scoffed, bumping Steve’s shoulder with his own. “Why do you make me do this? Why blow all your money on shows you don’t even enjoy?”

“Hey,” Steve chuckled softly, bright eyes now focused on Bucky. Their pace slowed as they stared at each other longingly. “I enjoy them wholeheartedly, all right? I love them. I love watching how worked up you get, your in-depth reviews afterward. I love...you.”

Bucky rolled his wide eyes before he dropped his head into Steve’s chest and pulled him closer.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Steve sighed heavily. “You sure you’re ready for bed?”

“I just endured literal _hours_ of torture, of course I’m ready for bed. I know all about torture, all right? And this was the worst kind by far. Just downright cruel.”

Steve held back a laugh as Bucky’s hand slipped inside his jacket and up the front of his shirt. His fingertips were cool against Steve’s blazing skin.

“Why are you always a furnace?” Bucky hummed into the blond’s neck.

His fingers danced over every line they found, moving up toward Steve’s collarbones until they hit something just as cool as his fingers. Steve immediately recoiled and though he tried to be subtle about it, Bucky was immediately curious if not mildly scorned by the rejection of his touch.

“S-Sorry,” Steve stuttered skin flushed from his ears to his shoulders. “God—That was—” Bucky was patient as Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in humiliation. He was about to speak up but he was silenced by Steve pulling the chain from beneath his shirt. “It’s dumb. I—There’s no reason to be embarrassed by it. I just—It’s—”

Bucky stepped forward to take the necklace from Steve’s desperate clutch. It was a silver locket. He turned it over between his fingers a few times and still looked at Steve, who urged him forward, his cheeks still tinged pink.

“Oh,” Bucky murmured as the locket fell open to reveal a picture in each side. One of himself, just before he shipped out for the army. In the other side was a picture of Peggy, not unlike the one Steve used to carry in his compass. “Why—You thought this would bother me? Seriously?”

Steve was silent.

“Never.”

He carefully placed the chain back around Steve’s neck and tucked it beneath his shirt again. Bucky laid his hand gently over the bump in the fabric, smiling as he looked into his lover’s burning red face.

“There we are, right by your heart where we belong.”


End file.
